Bagpipers of Distinction can provide you
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mini-pipe bands, ceilidh bands and
Highland Dancers for any occasion.
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We are also available internationally.
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Address to
a Haggis
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great
chieftain o' the pudding-race!
Aboon them a' yet tak your place, Painch,
tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy o'a grace As lang's my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant
hill, Your pin was help to mend a mill In time o'need, While thro'
your pores the dews distil Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic
Labour dight, An' cut you up wi' ready sleight, Trenching your gushing
entrails bright, Like ony ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin', rich!
Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive, Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes
belyve Are bent like drums; Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
Bethankit! hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout Or olio
that wad staw a sow, Or fricassee wad make her spew Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view On sic a dinner?
Poor
devil! see him owre his trash, As feckles as wither'd rash, His spindle
shank, a guid whip-lash; His nieve a nit; Thro' blody flood or field to
dash, O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The
trembling earth resounds his tread. Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle; An' legs an' arms, an' hands will sned, Like
taps o' trissle.
Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care, And dish them
out their bill o' fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups
in luggies; But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer Gie her a haggis!
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